Love You to Death
by villains-doitbetter
Summary: Esmeralda is confronted by Judge Claude Frollo about his feelings for her. Can they reach an agreement? Another tit for tat story: her freedom for that of her people. Along the way, she will learn that there is more to this man than anyone could understand.
1. Quid Pro Quo

The chains that binded her were cold and rusty; her environment just as deathly harsh with its moist stone walls, limited light from the nearby torch, and not a sound was made except for an occasional scurry and squeak from a rat passing by. Solitary confinement seemed to be the only effective way to break a gypsy.

Her wrists remained shackled to the wall above her head, now numb, and her bare feet were freezing from the damp air. She had concocted numerous scenarios and ideas that might be a possible escape plan, none of which were the least bit realistic. In the end she had given up and hung her head in exhaustion from a night without sleep, prepared to die at dawn in the square. _Burned alive_ …in front of the city of Paris and, worst of all, by that maniac who claimed to be its servant and guardian, yet selfishly went out of his way to seek her out while wiping out any opposition and protest that might have crossed his path.

God, how she hated that man. The echo of his deep voice made her sick to her stomach, and the thought of his smug face made her grit her teeth in anger. Had she known that one teasing dance would be the cause of such mania, she would never have provoked him. Now her family and closest friends awaited their demise as well.

She could still hear her brother's words reminding her as a child, _"Never poke the bear!"_ as she stared in awe at the intimidating judge atop his inky black steed while he continued to harass the gypsies of Paris.

She would not let him win; if she had to defy him to the grave, then so be it. Though the chances of escaping were very slim, she would not give him the satisfaction making it seem like she was completely at his mercy. It will be a cold day in Hell before she gave up her fighting spirit.

Suddenly she heard the echo of the wooden door creak from the top of the stairs, footsteps soon following. They were confident, striding closer to her cell. Instinctively the girl shut her eyes and turned away when they stopped, not wanting to look at whatever sadist pig had been ordered to try and intimidate her now.

"Well now," said not a doltish voice of a soldier, but a rich, commanding baritone. "This is every bit enjoyable as I had hoped. The witch is at last in her rightful place, soon to be cast to her eternal judgment before the Lord."

Her bright green eyes, filled with resentment, looked upwards to lock with the hungry gray ones possessed by the man who wanted nothing more than to see her suffer.

"What do you want?" she asked spitefully. "Your little cookout isn't until later."

His thin, dark lips smirked. "Simply charming, gypsy. I only wished to see how our most notorious inmate was on this most beautiful day." His tone was every bit pompous and egotistic as he was.

"Go to Hell!" she snapped angrily.

"Watch your tone, girl," he warned, narrowing his eyes at her small form. "Remember to whom you are speaking: the person who holds the fate of you and those you cherish in his hands. I can have each and every one of them slaughtered in a storm of arrow fire should I demand! Therefore, I would choose a more _respectful_ tone of voice if I were you."

"Did you just come here to mock me?"

Frollo pursed his lips. "No, _Esmeralda._ " He found it enchanting to finally address her by name. "As a matter of fact, that is _not_ the purpose for my visit. To be frank…it is rather difficult to even be the same atmosphere as you."

She was sick of the man speaking in riddles, almost as some sort of con artist would. Suddenly the question that had plagued her for days erupted out of her before she could even prevent it. "What do you want with me already?!" she exclaimed. "Why go to such trouble for the sake of one gypsy, Frollo?"

The Minister suddenly went cold as he wished so desperately that the circumstances were different and he could say all that he desired.

Frollo's rings rang against the iron bars in front of him as he gripped them tightly and hung his head, avoiding her eyes. Esmeralda cowered a little at the sudden sight of this man crumbling before her.

Leering at her, his breathing ragged, he responded, "You have no idea of the magnitude of damage that you have inflicted upon me since that day at the Festival. What torment that has mercilessly plagued me! You have become the bane of my existence!"

Esmeralda could not tear her gaze away from him as he resembled a rabid animal ready to attack.

"You alone have unhinged me—forced me to tear this city apart in hopes of capturing you, gypsy."

 _In hopes of savoring you…Needing you…_

"Never in my life would I have imagined that a woman would cause me to carry out such deeds against the Lord and my home. Why— _I ask_ —must it be a _gypsy_ of all creatures on God's green earth that leads me to do such things with such _disastrous_ results?! I question whether you are sent by the Devil himself to lead my soul to a fiery damnation, or one of God's angels here to test my faith once again. And frankly, I am not sure which one is more terrifying."

Esmeralda listened attentively to the Minister's words of anguish as they continued to pour from his lips, too shaken to interrupt his monologue. She noticed the tension in his bony hands as they continued to clench the iron bars, as if he wanted to pull them apart himself. His gray hair fell out of place and his face illustrated the great mental distress that tortured him. Esmeralda was absolutely stunned that this was the same man who moments before beamed pretentiously at her upon first entering.

He went on, "Only an angel could possess beauty such as yours…but only from Hell could such a fire be born! Why must it be _me_ who is chosen in such a test when there are so many wretched souls who _should_ be subjected? I have done the best of my abilities to be a virtuous follower of God, and I am only rewarded with _temptation?_ A pious man should _not_ be forced to endure such affliction!"

Frollo's chest heaved laboriously and sweat beaded itself on his forehead as he backed away from the gypsy's cell. He roughly wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, briefly ashamed for such emotion overpowering him.

The silence between them was crushing and seemed like a lifetime before Frollo realized the amount of fright that he instilled in her. Tremulously, he said, "My ability to keep order alive in the city has been hindered by a witch's enchantment. Now I find myself torn between what my sacred duty requires of me, and this harrowing... _carnal_ desire that should not be. I ask: _what am I to do?!_ "

The quiet gypsy narrowed her eyes at the man. Her blood boiled with anger at him. How dare he hold her responsible for his slipping sanity, torching the city, and, worst of all, blaming _her_ for _his_ destructive lust? And he wanted her to feel sorry for him? To feel guilty for all this bloodshed and madness?

 _Arrogant son of a…_

"You're insane!" she coldly announced.

Her hatred pierced him violently and the Minister felt his heart sink. Foolishly he had hoped that her known level of compassion and understanding could even extend to him, but he was proven to be _terribly_ wrong.

Her words of admonishment did not cease there. "You've abused your power because you're weak! You couldn't control yourself and you've made the people that you've sworn to protect suffer for it! I didn't tell you to come after me since the Festival! I didn't twist your arm and make you set fire to the city, Frollo; everything that's happened has been by _your own_ doing! You may think that it shows how above you are from the rest of us, but all it shows is that you're a cruel, selfish bastard!"

The judge stared blankly at the fuming girl, still shackled. In a tone with just as much acid, she then said, "Now why are you really here?"

 _That was it_ …Frollo had made up his mind. He had been drawn to her impassioned spirit, but right now it infuriated him more than anything. To have his use of power affronted and himself be insulted was something he could not allow to go unpunished. He would not give her the last triumph with her contemptuous words; a man like him would not let a gypsy gain an ounce of superiority over him.

A grim smile cracked across dark lips as his gray eyes met hers once again. "I wish to share some information that might… _interest_ you."

Esmeralda averted her glowing gaze from him, hoping that his next words would not confirm the rumors that she had been hearing throughout the city regarding his feelings towards the girl.

"I will offer you a chance of salvation," he droned, stepping forward.

 _Please, please don't be what I think he's going to say,_ she inwardly prayed.

"I will not send you to your doom—no matter how deserving you are, with such heathen practices. In return, you shall remain here…with me." He grinned boastfully.

Finally she looked back up at him. Brows knitting together, she venomously replied, "You disgust me."

He was slightly taken aback with her response, yet expected nothing less from a girl with her attitude.

"You really are pathetic, you know that?" she chided. "You've ruined all of Paris, and for what? So that you could make me your _whore?_ What happened to the _virtuous God-fearing vigilante_ that you've made yourself to be?"

Frollo could feel his hands balling into fists at her apprehension, a furious heat washing over him. However, he couldn't find it in himself to strike this impertinent girl down, instead wanting to hear her beautiful voice continue to condemn him.

"Besides," she said. "What do you need a common dancer for? There are plenty of brothels around Paris that I'm sure you're not even aware of. Just go there and stop this insanity!"

Frollo at last found his voice, breathing, "That isn't what I wanted."

His statement was barely audible even in this silent space. Before giving her a chance to ask him to repeat himself, he quickly collected himself and said, "My offer stands as it shall, gypsy. Choose: either I send you to the pits of Hell in a fiery demise.…or my second option. You shall be fully pardoned and never again will you know the deprivation of shelter. "

For a moment she felt hopeless that there was any way around her fate. Esmeralda unwillingly pondered such a decision. No, she didn't want to perish at the hands of this self-serving pyromaniac, but she also didn't want to subject herself to such a man as well. Frollo hadn't always struck her as a man who could be easily swayed, but maybe he could be reasoned with.

She sighed. "How about a deal, then?" she asked, a plan already formulated in her head.

Frollo raised an eyebrow and studied her suspiciously. "I don't particularly make bargains with your kind."

A small frown appeared on her face. "Come on, Frollo. If you give me what I want, I'll give you what you want." Such words left a bitter taste in her mouth, feeling this utter defeat fill her with shame.

Eyeing her intensely, he responded, "Very well. State your offer."

 _Here goes nothing,_ she thought.

"If—and _only if_ —you release the gypsies, Quasimodo, and Phoebus, then…" she breathed sorrowfully. "I'll stay here…with you."

Frollo's heart suddenly swelled with some unknown emotion at her words… _Happiness, elation, jealousy…_ However, he couldn't afford to show any weakness to such an evil entity.

"Why would you sacrifice yourself for so many others? Sounds rather foolish to do such a thing, I should say," Frollo remarked.

"Because unlike you, I want to help others; they didn't do anything to deserve this. Everything that's happened in the past few days is between you and me, _Your Honor._ Don't punish them for the issues that lie with one gypsy. Do it for the crimes that they do commit, not your personal prejudices. That's my final offer, Frollo."

He shot her an icy glare. "And what makes you think that for a moment I would allow you to take the upper hand in our little strife?" His subsequent smirk showed that he was sure that he had verbally bested her.

"Well, you did allow yourself to hear my proposal. It shows that you do care about something other than yourself." Esmeralda tried not to sound too cocky, in fear that he might withdraw the offer altogether.

Frollo ran his hand over his face in contemplation. He wanted Esmeralda more than anything in the world, but detested the idea of allowing his greatest victory of capturing Paris's gypsy population to run free after so long. Over twenty years of agonizing over the whereabouts of the gypsies' Court of Miracles would all be for naught.

 _Still,_ he pondered. _Perhaps it would make her more…yielding._

But how would explain the sudden release of gypsies? A change of heart? The citizens would never believe him; he'd have to conjure up a more reasonable story.

"You shall stay as long as I command," he ordered. "And I will free the rest of your godless brethren back into the city, including your friends, the _former_ Captain and the hunchback."

Esmeralda sighed at the realization that soon her last shred of freedom would be obliterated. "Deal."

A smile found its way to the judge's pale face at the admittance of his victory. Taking the keys from his pocket, he opened the cell door and strode forward to unlock the latches on the gypsy's wrists, instantly grabbing her by the arm lest she get any ideas of trying to make a run. "Come along," he said firmly, leading her out and up the stairs from the dungeon.

"Do not make me regret my decision," he growled as he pulled her through the vast hallways of the Palace of Justice.


	2. Loose Ends

Esmeralda's arm tingled with numbness from the sudden change of suspension from manacles to the powerful grip of the Minister of Justice's hold as he pulled her harshly through the Palace's halls. The Parisian sky was ominously orange and black from the still-burning flames set ablaze only days ago, giving the dark, barren corridor the only light, shadows covering the pair as they strode through.

Esmeralda pulled her arm stubbornly, trying to free herself from Frollo's grasp. "I already said that I would stay—you don't have to treat me like a child!" she protested, feeling his grip never let up. Frollo stopped abruptly and turned around to face his bold little captive, fire burning in his eyes as he stared at her forebodingly. The hellish glow pouring in through the windows cast shadows upon the judge's face, making him look more ferocious and almost demonic as he frowned heavily upon her.

"I am aware of what you said, but do not think for an _instant_ that I would suddenly give you my trust. If I did that, no doubt you would try to escape our little arrangement at the first opportune moment. I know firsthand how crafty your kind can be." His words might have been baneful, but they were not enough to frighten the impertinent gypsy girl, who pursed her lips and glared at him in defiance.

"And why would I do that?" she asked, almost mockingly. "Then this deal would all be for nothing, wouldn't it? I run off, and you wipe out everyone I love—where's the logic in that? If you want me to stay here, you're going to have to learn to trust me, Frollo."

Her look of determination bathed in the fiery, nightmarish glow made her look so fierce as Frollo momentarily contemplated her words, forgetting that he was still holding her arm tightly and unrelentingly. Blinking back to the actual matter at hand, he answered, "Trust is something that must be earned first. Until then, I believe it's safe to say that I will keeping a close eye on you, gypsy." With that, he pulled her again, leading her down the corridor once more.

Shaking her head at his stubbornness, Esmeralda then found herself drawn to the Palace of Justice's atmosphere as they glided through swiftly. Its thick stone walls without any portraits or even religious imagery surprised her, to say the least, especially for a man like Claude Frollo.

"What, no grand tour?" she quipped before she found herself being pulled up the long staircase of what she vaguely remembered was the foyer of the Palace—a wide space and doors at every end. Taking a right, Frollo dragged her forward until coming to a sudden halt some ten or twelve doors later. Reaching beneath his heavy dark robe, he found a set of keys, unlocking the door and pushing the girl inside.

Closing the door behind him, Frollo stood motionlessly as he studied the girl who stood in the center of the large bedroom, back turned to him as she took in what little there was once her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Even in her tattered white prisoner garb, she looked magnificent—almost ghost-like. How her long ebony hair flowed gracefully, even when she turned around to face him again with a look of indifference. Such gentle beauty left him momentarily breathless as he felt himself lean wearily against the wooden door behind him, chaperon cushioning his head as continued to gaze dumbly at her, speechless.

Eyes darting from the floor back to his stare, Esmeralda emotionlessly said, "Well…Let's get this over with." Letting her hands fall to her side, and averting her gaze again to barely acknowledge the large bed to her left.

Such monotone roused him from his lustful gaze, shaking the enchanted Minister out of his spell. "Excuse me?" he asked without thinking as he straightened up, adjusting his hat.

"You wanted me here—I'm here, so let's just be done with it already." Esmeralda crossed her arms and stared at the stone floor, waiting for his next move.

Unbeknownst to her, Frollo's expression seemed to soften—no…a look of sadness seemed to adorn his harsh countenance. He finally had the gypsy girl in his clutches, what he had desired more than anything for the past few days. She had consented to giving herself to him in the comfort and seclusion of a bedroom just as he had wished for…

But he studied her stoicism…how reluctantly willing she was to appease him without any sort of feeling but negativity towards him. Boldly sacrificing her freedom for the sake of others by satisfying his sinful desires. Now here she was, prepared to give him just that, without so much as a fight… _Such a simple chance to finally silence those urgent cravings..._

Yet, why did he feel so… _unhappy?_ So undeserving, so… _guilty?_ Torn between the innermost human desire, and… _shame?_ His mind suddenly flashed back to that faithful day as she twirled and teased him fearlessly before confronting and chiding him in front of the whole city of Paris. _That fire!_ It was that energy and spirit that ignited his own and burned unextinguishedly for her. To see her so numb and stagnant was… _heartbreaking._

 _God, what are you thinking?_ He inwardly scolded himself. _You have won your prize, now go claim her!_ Oh, how he had endlessly envisioned her nude form clutching at his own, sounds of pleasure escaping both of their lips, and driving all of his energy into a frenzy of carnal passion. _The fires consuming his city worth such lecherous delight...not thinking about the ashes filling the air as he held her voluptuous form to his own lean one..._

But still, to take her as he wanted, albeit with her relinquished zest…What would he really have gained? _What is a bird without its plume? What is a snake without its bite?_

 _What was this goddess without her vigorous spirit?_ His heart sunk at such a question, envisioning a cold, unfeeling corpse-like gypsy underneath his body.

That wild, burning passion that he possessed for her…would _not_ be returned. There would be absolutely _nothing_ between them. The very thought left Frollo winded as his head reeled from these crushing thoughts.

Esmeralda looked at him apprehensively, confused by his sudden gasp for air. "Are you okay?" she asked, taking a step back, unsure of what he might do next.

Rubbing at his temple, Frollo looked at the surprised young woman who returned his perplexed expression. "I…I am just fine," he lied breathlessly as he tried to recompose himself, removing his hat and running a hand through his gray hair, heart hammering in his chest.

Esmeralda nodded slightly, arms still crossed. "So…what? Aren't you going to…?" Her eyes gave him his answer.

"No," he sternly replied, back straightening and eyes locked on her as she shifted awkwardly.

Looking back up at the judge, Esmeralda responded, "Well, isn't that what you wanted me for? That's what this whole mess was about in the first place. What do you want from me then?"

He placed his hat back upon his head. "First of all, that was not the only reason this fiasco ensued—you seemed to have forgotten about your little act of public defiance. And second, you will remain here as long as I say, as previously stated," his voice was even despite the storm of conflicting thoughts brewing in his turmoiled mind. "I should be attending to the last matters at hand. As requested, it appears that I now have a horde of gypsies and two traitors that need releasing from custody. _You_ , in the meantime, shall remain in this room. I will send for one of the servants to bring you something to eat."

Turning around, Frollo pulled the door open and shut it quickly, locking it without another word. Outside in the quiet hallway, he exhaled a sigh of mixed feelings, not sure whether to be proud or angered with himself for denying himself her body at the first chance… _to finally bring his lewd fantasies to life._

 _Never mind that, there is work to be done!_ With that thought, he set off to clean up the mess for which _he_ was responsible.

Meanwhile, Esmeralda stood alone in the dark bedroom, frozen in place, a million thoughts racing through her mind. _What the hell just happened?_ she asked herself.

Had Frollo—the lustful, sanctimonious, vindictive, lunatic arsonist Minister of Justice—really denied himself her body? The chance to ravish her as he pleased without fear of a higher power intervening or a second thought? Was that not the whole point of his incendiary crusade of the city?

Breaking from her statuesque pose, Esmeralda turned and sat down carefully at the foot of the great bed, trying to make sense of Frollo's actions. This man was truly a mystery, she surmised. For most of her life, there seemed to only be one side of him, which was the gypsy-despising, religious zealot who ruled Paris with an iron fist.

To see him undone by a simple street dancer and driven mad with desire was astounding and frightening at the same time. All he seemed to want was to quench his thirst for her body, but at the first opportunity he had done _nothing_. It was all incredibly confusing. How was she supposed to cope with this newfound captivity when he was as unpredictable as a lightning strike?

Esmeralda's green eyes looked around the vast room, noticing the orange light streaming in through the curtained windows, which gave her a chance to study the place. A round table with a single chair some feet past the door; at the far end of the room was an unlit fireplace; above it, a large iron cross.

 _A reminder of sorts,_ she thought sarcastically, turning away and walking towards one of the windows and drawing the curtain. In the distance she could see the piercing spires of Notre Dame, standing strong even as her city suffered at the hands of its so-called "protector."

She frowned at the thought. Religion was never something that she understood in its entirety. In the Court of Miracles, the belief was to put faith in one's self and those who could be trusted as opposed to incanting old liturgy and reading some thousand year old book. How ironic that something that supposedly purported peace was used as a tool for destruction at the hands of someone like Frollo, who arrogantly believed himself to be holier than all.

 _But then again,_ she began to ponder, gaze still out the window. Despite all that he justified through his faith—including his treatment of her and her fellow Romani— _something_ had overcome him. Something that stopped him from carrying out his violent urges upon her… _but what?_ Esmeralda turned her head and looked back at the religious symbol hanging above the fireplace. Whether or not it was something like divine intervention, she knew she should watch her step.

 _No telling what he'll do in a moment's notice,_ she told herself, turning her attention back upon the charred city and reminding herself of what the man was capable of. At any rate, hopefully Frollo would indeed keep his end of the bargain and free those for whom she was putting her neck on the line.

Looking back to the cathedral, Esmeralda could feel herself missing the familiar sound of the famous bells. _Quasimodo, please be alright,_ she prayed. If there was any good in the world, hopefully the judge would not take out any more of his anger on his ward.

X

" _Captain!"_ The Minister barked, his mustachioed soldier at attention and awaiting orders. Frollo had returned to the dungeons, prepared to give up everything that he had worked so hard for… _for twenty long years._ "There has been a slight change in agenda," Frollo explained, trying to keep his voice from wavering. "I order you to set the release of all gypsies arrested from yesterday's siege, as well as the former Captain, Phoebus de Chateaupers," he said the ex-Captain of the Guard's name with a suppressed amount of hatred in an attempt to appear professional. Frollo could hear the moans and gripes coming from the crowded cells; the raid on the Court of Miracles had resulted in more arrests than the dungeons were prepared to accommodate.

"But…But sir," the current captain spoke. "You specifically ordered for the arrest of all gypsies when we stormed the Court-"

"And now I am ordering you to undo those arrests! Do you follow, _Captain?_ " Frollo's fierce voice struck fear into the man, as well as his fellow soldiers around him.

"Of-of course, Minister," the captain stammered. "It shall be done immediately." He nodded to his men who looked hesitantly at their leaders, dumbfounded by this strange decision made by the Minister.

" _Today!_ " Frollo ordered. With that command, the guards scattered about, fumbling for keys to unlock the numerous cells, Frollo storming out before he could see the greatest work of his career undone in less than a day. Besides…there was still another part of the deal that he needed to deal with. A headache was forming as he imagined the faces of relief adorning those gypsies as their cell doors would swing open, being told they were released by the Minister.

Once outside, he quickly commanded his coach driver to take him to the cathedral, stepping into the small dark atmosphere. The vehicle lurching forward, Frollo sighed and rested his elbows on his knees, covering his face with his hands while he mulled over the endless thoughts in his mind. Everything seemed to be coming apart at the seams—all that he had ever strived for, the magnum opus of his career, his mental health. All that he cared about seemed to be going to ruins.

His whole career, Frollo had kept a clean record for the most part. The only time that King Louis had questioned the judge's abilities was when word got out that the latter had abruptly become a father to a deformed foundling. Even then, he had been able to convince the monarch that he was capable of keeping his city in check. When he torched the city, Frollo had sent word to Louis that everything was under control and that such bedlam served a higher purpose, unsurprisingly met with the king's approval. To say that he used the king's superstition for his own benefit was an understatement; the fact that the man was nicknamed "The Prudent" was almost laughable.

Without warning, Frollo's mind conjured the glowing face of his prisoner locked away in his home _._ _Prisoner…_ suddenly Frollo felt sick and contrite over the notion. With all the adoration and weakness he held for the bright young woman, he had made her nothing more than that. _Just like those damned souls beneath the Palace…_

But how else would she bend to him? There was no way in hell that she would come willingly had he not threatened her and her loved ones. What if he hadn't? _That ape of a Captain would have surely snatched her away in the blink of an eye!_ How _was_ he supposed to be feeling about this? Anger and hatred towards the girl, for whom he burned his home in the effort to capture her? Or remorse that he himself chose this course of action in a blind passion? Would he ever be able to win her over?

Frollo barely registered that the coach came to a halt, indicating their arrival at Notre Dame, exiting reluctantly. His cold eyes traveled from the intricate designs of saints on the façade's portals, to the two towers that stood gargantuanly above him, sharp as the Devil's pitchfork. He snapped his gaze away when it lingered on the bell tower for too long, for that was where he was headed anyway.

Pushing the doors open slowly, Frollo stepped inside, glancing about. The church was silent as the grave, and not an Archdeacon in sight, much to his relief. He could make his trip quick and less aggravating than he preferred. With that, he glided through the nave before reaching the steps to the bell tower, climbing them solemnly up to the home of the bell-ringer. Wooden steps creaking under him, he heard the instinctive question from one of his guards that he had stationed here, "Who goes there?"

His expression stoic and grim, the soldier and his comrade nodded and respectfully greeted their leader as he stood before them once recognized. Over their shoulders, Frollo could see the round-backed figured slumped over, burly arms suspended by iron chains wrapped around stone columns. The boy was a shell of himself, broken and hopeless over the fate of his friends since being arrested. Despite the feeling of justification in ordering such a sentence, Frollo looked away and gravely told them, "Release the boy."

The two guards exchanged confused expressions before looking back at their master to test the situation. "Are you _deaf?_ Must I repeat myself? Release him at once!" This sent the two scrambling back to undo the silent bell-ringer's iron bonds, quickly retreating afterwards, leaving the boy and his master alone in a stifling silence.

Just as the Minister was set to exit the bell tower, he heard his subordinate's voice lowly ask, "Where is she?"

He turned back somewhat, refusing to meet the dark blue eyes of his charge. Frollo pondered for a moment of how he should answer. Unfortunately for him, his ward cared deeply for the gypsy, just as much as he did. It would not be much help to lie about her status and whereabouts, given the trust that Quasimodo had held for him was now hanging by a very thin thread.

"She is safe and out of the dungeons," he answered vaguely, his voice was almost hushed, trying to retain his usual enigmatic appearance. He did not want to let the myriad of emotions battling over the gypsy's situation to reveal themselves in the form of an outburst of confession. It pained him a little to know that Esmeralda cared for the boy and regarded him as a friend despite his monstrous form.

" _Where_ is she?" Quasimodo asked again, this time more firmly, all the while never breaking his scornful gaze from his former mentor.

Frollo sighed, his mind so cluttered that he barely cared about such insolence in his ward's tone. "At the Palace of Justice. She has exchanged her freedom for that of her gypsy family, the former Captain, and of yours, Quasimodo."

"What do you want with her?" The hunchback questioned him accusingly, striking the judge like an arrow. With the recent events, Quasimodo had no doubt come to see the man for what he truly was, destroying the long-standing admiration and devotion that he held for his adoptive father.

At such a point, Frollo wondered if it was worth weaving yet another lie to keep his dwindling reputation intact, or to tell him to shameful truth of his plans regarding Esmeralda.

"She broke the law, and I seek to carry out an appropriate punishment," Frollo explained. "And, to some extent…I seek to reform her. Hopefully with proper time and education, she can be steered towards the right path. To learn to embrace God and renounce her heathen ways."

For the first time, Frollo witnessed a look of hostility on his ward's misshapen face. To see this from such a soft-spoken and shy person like Quasimodo unnerved the judge. He was well-aware of his great strength and what he was physically capable of, slightly fearful the boy might snap him like a twig.

Glowering at his master, Quasimodo severely instructed, "Don't you dare hurt her. She's my friend, and I'll do anything to help her."

Frollo was astonished at such loyalty the boy held for her, which could possibly match that which he held for the Minister for twenty years.

Typical of himself, Frollo only vaguely answered, "I will do what I must," before quickly exiting the bell tower. The day was young and there was still much to do.

* * *

 ***A/n: Hope it's okay. Leave reviews, they keep me motivated!**


	3. Get Used to It

"Sir, we brought you the former Captain," one guard stated as the Minister returned to the Palace of Justice and instantly made haste for his study. The former Captain of the Guard stood in the center, flanked by two metalclad soldiers and the new Captain; once proudly adorned in gold armor, Phoebus had been reduced to his dirty white tunic and breeches and disheveled blond hair. "We figured that you would want to give the sentence directly," the same soldier said.

Phoebus's fists tightened bitterly, the iron chains from his manacles rattling. He bore his blue eyes distrustfully into the unmoving gray ones of the Minister.

Frollo ordered himself to suppress the urge to pounce and throttle the man in jealousy when Esmeralda's sweet, concerned face flashed through his mind.

"Yes…the former Captain," the judge grumbled, hands behind his back. His dark gray eyes burned into the stoic blue ones of the soldier before him. "While the sentence for insubordination is _death_ …perhaps there is a more fitting approach to penalize you for your _insolent_ behavior."

Phoebus raised an eyebrow, unsure if there was any punishment worse than death. "And that would be…?" he asked, never breaking from the Minister's leer.

"I can see that appointing you as my Captain of the Guard was a mistake, therefore, you shall be reduced to a foot soldier," Frollo explained, watching the man's expression change from that of stone to one of shock. "That is why I have relinquished the duties of Captain to Lieutenant Rousseau. And for your blatant disobedience, you shall be placed in the stocks today until tomorrow morning. I take it that there will be no quarrels with these new implications, so you may be on your way." With that, Frollo gave a wave of his hand to his men, glad to be done with the man.

"Wait—what? But I-" Phoebus stammered as the two soldiers dragged him out of the judge's study, the Minister gritting his teeth at the notion that the former Captain still had his head attached.

The new Captain studied the agitated Minister. "Sir," he began, Frollo turning around to face him. "Captain—uh…the _former_ Captain disobeyed your orders, why is the punishment not death?"

"While he disrespected authority, Phoebus de Chateaupers is still an able soldier," Frollo explained. "A soldier of his stature would surely be missed if he were to simply be removed, and I intend to keep my battalions as effective as possible."

"Minister-"

"There will be no further discussion on the matter, _Captain_ ," Frollo quipped before the man could protest. "Now unless you wish to relinquish your newly-acquired title so soon, I suggest you make yourself useful and go oversee Phoebus's punishment. Afterwards, patrol the city to ensure that the gypsies are not wreaking havoc since their release. God forbid they take out their resentment against the people after being imprisoned."

Obediently, the mustached Captain nodded in understanding before exiting, leaving the Minister of Justice stewing in anger. Removing his hat and slinking into his desk chair, Frollo noticed the parchment pieces scattered about. Just then, he remembered something that made his heart skip a beat: after Frollo wrote to the King about his city-wide search of Esmeralda, Louis promised him his complete funding and trust… _and he expected a detailed report on the mass execution of gypsies as promised._

 _How are you going to explain yourself?_ Frollo chastised himself, pinching the bridge of his crooked nose and exhaling tiredly. _Louis is not entirely forgiving—he isn't called the "Universal Spider" for nothing…you must think of something!_

The judge pulled himself forward, resting his elbows upon the surface and clasping his hands. Resting his forehead against his folded hands, almost in prayer, Frollo thought heavily of what to write as he looked down at the parchment which in turn stared up at him forebodingly.

X

Esmeralda had been trapped in her chambers for a few hours, bored out of her mind. While Frollo was somewhere else in the large building probably buried in legal work, she was marooned here and left to stare out the windows. _What does he expect me to do here?_ she thought to herself sarcastically, drumming her fingers lightly on the windowpane and looking down over the thatch roofs of the city.

The gypsy wondered what the Minister was up to, what was so important that he stormed out to attend to instead of ravishing her body as he originally sought to do.

Esmeralda was stirred from her thoughts when she heard the sudden sound of the lock jiggle, one of the Palace's maids entering carrying a tray of food and leaving it on the small table wordlessly, and nodding before leaving the gypsy alone again. Though she did not want to take anything given to her from Frollo, her growling stomach screamed for nourishment, Esmeralda reluctantly deciding that sustenance was more important than her pride and contempt for him.

The aroma that rose from the food was so heavenly that the gypsy's mouth watered instantly. Before her, a fresh loaf of bread, a bowl of hot stew of herbs and chicken, a sweet smelling tart, and a goblet and new bottle of wine—a meal more succulent than anything she would have dreamed of while surviving off of old bread in the Court of Miracles. She instantly tore into the light, fluffy bread, her stomach thanking her.

A few hours ago, she was starving beneath the Palace. She had used all her energy in her verbal battle with Frollo, no matter how tired she was. As she ate, her mind flashed back to just the other night… _Djali rushing in and bleating frantically, urging her to follow him…emerging from her tent in the Court and seeing the other gypsies gathered and shouting curses towards the hanging platform…her heart skipping a beat just as Clopin was about to pull the lever and do away with Quasimodo and Phoebus…_

 _That fleeting sense of peace as she held the noble Captain in her arms…just as she was about to thank Quasimodo for finding the Court to warn her family,_ he _showed up, paralyzing everyone in terror._

Esmeralda's fist involuntarily clenched in animosity as she remembered being shoved into one of those metal cages on wheels to be escorted to the Palace of Justice… _as the large cart took off, she exchanged brief glances with the exultant Minister, whose smirk disappeared as soon as he met her gaze for a split second before it rolled away._

Sipping the bitter wine, Esmeralda remembered the depressing and rickety cart ride on the way to the Palace. _She sat across from Phoebus and Clopin and other gypsies crammed in, each adorned with a defeated expression as they rolled through the city streets, citizens laughing and waving goodbye to them, now that the Minister of Justice had fulfilled his life-long goal…_

Esmeralda paced around the large chambers, lost in her thoughts, fidgeting with the dress sleeve of her white gown. _What if Frollo doesn't keep his end of the deal?_ She worried as the beaten faces of her people flashed through her mind.

 _He will, he promised,_ she told herself, trying to keep her spirit up. _He's also one dishonest bastard_ _you heard the lies he filled Quasi's head with._

 _But would he stoop that low? To promise their freedom if you stay here only to not fulfill his obligation?_

Maybe she should have a small ounce of faith in him, maybe there was more than meets the eye… _Who are you kidding?_ She asked herself darkly, absent-mindedly tucking a stray lock behind her ear. _Faith in Frollo? Please…_

X

Waving his hand, Frollo flung another parchment piece into the fireplace and watched it quickly blacken before shriveling up into ash. He had racked his brain in an attempt to find the right words to pen to the King, only to go through numerous parchments, never content with his choice of words. For the love of God, he tried desperately to think of something that would not raise Louis's suspicions over his judicial abilities… _again…_

In a feverish frenzy, Frollo had sent every rejected idea he penned flying over the study with one sweep of his arm. After ripping up many parchments and breaking the tips of several quills, he was sure that he found the right way to tell Louis that his promised mass slaughter of the gypsies would _not_ be carried out.

With every discarded idea he picked up, Frollo quickly sent it flying into the hearth. He watched as the inked ideas went up in flames, the intensity of the fire never bothering him, rather providing a morbid sense of comfort and power. It reminded him of the flames that he set for her… _the fire that burned inside of him, that threatened to consume him…_

Frollo shook his head from that thought, leaning against the mantle of the fireplace as he watched the last of the parchment burn to bits, the glow coloring his pale countenance orange. He didn't care how expensive the materials were; such things seemed so miniscule as his mind once again thought of the gypsy girl who lay just a couple of floors above him.

For a brief fleeting moment he inwardly prayed that she had not rejected the food he had provided out of pride. It would be most unfortunate to see such an exquisite flower wilt and whither.

 _Stop!_ He told himself. _Remember that you are in control—she will yield to you. She has already given her freedom._

 _With others in her heart…_

Frollo tore himself away from the fireplace, rubbing the back of his stiff neck and trying to quell his bothersome thoughts. Overwhelming exhaustion was washing over him, causing his shoulders to slouch and igniting a headache in his skull. The judge had barely slept in days, hardly being able to without waking from dreams of the gypsy. Even as his bedchambers glowed from the inferno that was Paris, he slept restlessly as his mind pictured Esmeralda dancing and tormenting him… _grinning triumphantly as she stood above him as she enslaved him, the Minister kneeling before her as if she were the blessed Virgin herself, wanting her to possess him…and to possess her. She would tackle him, straddling him as he stared up at her in awe, her slender hands running down his chest and trying to rip his robes away…the nymph…_

Feeling a familiar swelling form below, he tried to suppress those carnal dreams. He looked out the window and saw that the afternoon was barely approaching, a small beam of sunlight covered in the dark orange smoke clouds that still lingered over Paris.

A knock at the door stirred him from his thoughts, causing him to quickly retreat back to desk as he anxiously waited for swelling in his hose to go down. Clearing his throat and trying to remain as collected as always, calling out, "Enter."

The messenger boy entered, standing at attention as he spoke, "Minister, the new orders have been delivered to your commanders and they are on their way to monitor the gypsies' activity. Will there be anything else at the moment?"

Frollo reached for sealed message, holding it up and answering, "This is to be delivered to His Majesty at once. See to it that he receives it immediately!"

The boy approached the judge's desk and took the letter, swiftly exiting and leaving the Minister alone again. Gripping the arms of his chair, he let out a ragged breath as his arousal finally ebbed away. _Only a sorceress could cast such a spell,_ he scornfully thought.

How could a woman who brought him such inner turmoil captivate him so much at the same time? Her beautifully carved body might be that of heavenly creation, but the influence she held over a man so pious could only have emerged from the darkness.

No matter the amount of conflict she brought him, Frollo had the sudden desire to see her. His mind and body were tired beyond belief, but his urge to check on her fueled him as he rushed out of his study and up the flight of stairs to the next few floors. Stopping at the door where Esmeralda sat on the other side, Frollo hesitated as his hand hovered above the door handle. He knew that their interactions had not once been positive, but he still wanted nothing more than to see her, even if it meant she would rain curses and swears upon him.

Taking the keyring in his hand, he jammed the key into the lock and swung the door open, Esmeralda quickly jumping around from her spot at one of the large windows and standing tall. Frollo shut the door behind him and shoved the keys back into his pocket, wordlessly approaching her, his face stern.

Though she made his heart flutter, he did his best to remain composed as he broke the silence. "I hope you are satisfied. I have worked tirelessly for _twenty years_ to claim the Court of Miracles and wipe out those miscreants…and all of that has been undone in the blink of an eye," his voice rumbled as he leered at her. "Your heathen family is back polluting my city, and the two disloyal turncoats whom you regard as friends have been released as well. Not one has been harmed, though I cannot say the same for your _beloved_ former Captain."

"What did you do to Phoebus?" she asked, anger flaring up as her bright green eyes bore deeply into his flinty gray ones.

"Calm yourself, gypsy. Phoebus shall be punished for his failure to comply with orders, but, _unfortunately_ , he will remain alive and a soldier. However, one of the conditions of his punishment was the stripping of his title as Captain. A man who can be so easily swayed has no place as the leader of others."

Esmeralda scoffed at his arrogance. "So I suppose you're just some _god among mortals_ , aren't you?"

"Watch your tongue," Frollo warned as he stepped closer, his tone menacing. "I did just as you asked and released your kin and companions. I believe a few words of _gratitude_ are customary after an act of kindness is performed. Perhaps virtues such as _manners_ are foreign to your kind."

 _An act of gratitude…_ His mind conjured up pleasurable images of her in the most compromising positions as "payment" for his deeds. Especially when he admired those bright red lips, clenching his fists to steel himself.

"' _Kindness'_?" She asked in disbelief, folding her arms across her chest. "What you did was _not_ kindness—it was part of an agreement. If we hadn't have made this little deal, you would have murdered us all and burned the city to a crisp. But if you want a proper thank you, fine… _thank you,_ Minister, for threatening me and everyone I hold dear because of your own prejudices. _Thank you_ for giving me the option of either becoming your _mistress_ , or being burnt at the stake before killing my friends and family. Thank you _so much_ for torching people's homes and the rest of the city in order to make me a prisoner! And all of this was done out of the "kindness" of your heart, so _thank you_ for everything!"

Frollo stood motionless, paralyzed by such impassioned words. _Such baneful, contemptuous testament…_ Before he could let himself be overwhelmed in awe of her intensity and fearlessness, he rebutted, "May I remind you that I could have easily broken my promise? That _I_ have the ability to set fire to that rat-hole of a safe haven that your people built—as I _should_ have! I could have let my men take the Captain's head right off his neck to use for a doorstop—or let Quasimodo rot in that bell tower in chains until he starved to death. But I did _not!_ I gave you my word, Esmeralda, and—no matter how much it pained me to do so—I fulfilled my obligation and released them as part of your conditions! My own ward has turned against me because of _you!_ "

Esmeralda studied the fervor of his expression, though furious, there was something else there… _some sort of defeated sorrow._ It shocked to her to see this, on top of that, hearing that he actually kept his end of the bargain. Stifling any further sarcastic retort, she softly asked, "So you let Quasimodo go?"

"I promised that I would, and I did," he answered evenly, calming himself. He averted his gaze from her to the cold flagstone floor. "Twenty years of unquestioned devotion severed in doing so, but yes. Besides, where will the church find a seasoned bell-ringer on such short notice?" His tone indicated that he was trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Paying no heed to his sliver of dark humor, Esmeralda asked, "You didn't punish him too, did you?"

Folding his hands behind his back and pacing away from the gypsy, Frollo answered, "Given the recent turn of events, Quasimodo's loyalty no longer lies with me, so he would have no qualms in bringing upon my demise in your defense. If I sent my men in with some grim retribution for his betrayal, no doubt I would receive a report of an entire squadron having their heads bashed into Notre Dame's walls. I think the reality of your presence here is punishment enough in itself."

Esmeralda pictured her forlorn friend sitting heartbroken on one the rafters. His former guardian had become the true monster in his eyes, and his dearest friend was now locked away like him. Guilt welled in the pit of her stomach as she thought of how so many of her loved ones had suffered over Frollo's obsession with her.

Esmeralda nervously wrung her hands together, unable to look up at the Minister. "I…I'm surprised you followed through on your word."

Frollo looked at her sullen expression, loose tendrils of her black hair falling over her face, astounded by such innocence it bore. How he desperately wanted to pull her to himself and abandon every religious moral left to taste the Forbidden Fruit he had dreamt of for days. But he knew that he must remain the dominant force in this strife, falling back on his usual contempt before he could stop himself. "I am not so cruel that I would break my promise…even if it is to one of your kind."

And just like that, Esmeralda jerked her head up and glowered at him, gritting her teeth at his venomous words. Before she could fight back with her own caustic retort, she halted and thought, _Remember what happened to them,_ thinking of her friends. It sickened her to do so, but she responded, "Well, thank you anyway for releasing Quasimodo and Phoebus and the gypsies."

 _An act of gratitude…_ the words rung in his ears, the Minister standing like a statue and studying her intensely. Spurred by those earlier thoughts, Frollo acted before he could think.

He grabbed Esmeralda by the shoulders and pulled her to his stiff form. Without warning, Frollo claimed her lips, a muffled whimper of disgust escaping Esmeralda's mouth as the judge drove his tongue in. His firm fingers dug into the skin of her shoulders, unyielding as he lost himself in such a lustful frenzy, the growing bulge below evident of such excitement.

 _At long last, the nectar of the gods…sweet ambrosia,_ he thought decadently, all control lost as he tasted the sweetness of this goddess.

With all her strength, Esmeralda instinctively pushed him back, Frollo stumbling a little from her sudden reaction as his head reeled. The gypsy girl glared at him as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, gasping for air like the Minister before her.

"My God— _you're a pig!_ " she cried, hatred burning in those bright green orbs, fighting the urge not to gag.

Frollo stared at her, lingering in a hypnotic trance, stupefied by what just happened. All she had done was give him a few genuine words of thanks, and that had been enough to send him over the edge in an outburst of desire.

Suddenly the air around him felt thin as he still breathed raggedly, the burning below driving him mad and needing to be released. He needed to leave— _out of the sorceress's lair._

With a shaky breath, the only thing he could utter was, "Witch..."

He didn't know if he said it in astonishment or fearful condemnation. Turning on his heels, he swiftly headed for the door, locking it behind him and storming down the corridor.

Once he left, Esmeralda felt a chill run down her spine as his sudden assault on her mouth replayed in her mind, groaning in revulsion. If he could make her feel nauseous just from a single kiss, she shuddered to think of what other carnal acts he conjured up in his mind.

 ***A/n: Thank you everyone for your reviews and I hope you like the chapter! R/R or drop me a line!**


	4. Mistrust

Through some sheer will to keep himself from going completely mental, Frollo had managed to endure the rest of this long, agonizing day. Slumping back in the hard, wooden desk chair, the Minister stared up at the dark ceiling and pondered what his next move should be.

Every document pushed in front of him he welcomed as a distraction when his mind would circle back to earlier… _plundering the gypsy girl's sweet mouth-_

He clenched his fists as he reeled those thoughts back, attempting to remain collected. _Contain yourself!_ He screamed internally, cursing himself for not staying focused.

 _You are in control, you are in control!_ Frollo repeatedly reminded himself. However, doubt shrouded itself as he attempted to bury it back. He stared blankly at the illuminated flagstones in the floor, lost in tumultuous thought.

 _Such sweet satisfaction_ —until she shoved him away, Esmeralda showing her disdain for him as plainly as she could and deriding him further. Had anyone spoke to him in such a manner, he would have struck them down in retaliation— _or even had them hanged for such nerve!_

But he could not bring himself to do such a thing. _Not anymore…_

The judge sighed in frustration, burying his fingers in his hair as he reflected on the matter. Just a day ago he was prepared to send her and her loved ones to their doom lest she rejected him. Now the very idea of doing so sickened him. _Why?_ He asked himself, stupefied by this shift.

He had not had such a case of conflicting calls in judgment in years— _and fueled by some gypsy!_

Why was it suddenly so difficult to make a decision over another's life? In his two decades as Minister of Justice, he had never felt so unsure in his decision-making. As a leader of many, indecisiveness was a foreign feeling that made his skin crawl. Why was it so difficult to think clearly when it came to that gypsy? Was he… _afraid_ of her?

 _Impossible!_ He tried to reassure himself, his pewter eyes jumping back towards the roaring fireplace across the room that illuminated this dark cavern-like study. _To feel intimidated by a girl like her? Preposterous!_

Yet…

Why did his heartbeat quicken so when his thoughts turned to Esmeralda? She was only a girl…but he felt as though he would crumble under her scorching green eyes. Even when she looked at him so blankly after being shoved inside her chambers, Frollo could feel her sorcery taking its tight hold over his heart and stopping the judge before he could carry out his sinful desires.

 _This is her doing,_ he thought, making himself paranoid. Placing a hand over his eyes, he tried to even his ragged breathing. _She wants to enslave you with her wicked ways—that temptress wants to make you weak!_

His hands then squeezed into fists at the very thought, rings glistening in the firelight. _You will_ not _be seen as weak, especially by some_ _damsel!_

Frollo ripped himself from his chair and stormed out of his study, suddenly feeling as though the space was suffocating him. Marching down the long corridor, he turned sharply and pushed through one of doors, stepping outside to the balcony. Frollo strode over and leaned heavily on his hands against the parapet, hanging his head as he tried to recompose himself. He drew in a long, deep breath of the refreshing winter air, which blew gently through his hair.

How quickly things had changed in only a few short days: one day he was explaining to his new Captain on this very balcony the malignities that manifested in Paris…now it seemed as though he could trust absolutely nobody.

Frollo's eyes scanned over the moonlit thatched roofs of Paris, almost every window dark with its tenants fast asleep, no doubt. His eyes fell on a small burning light emitted from the top window of a nearby townhouse. Immediately (and without thinking), he pondered, _Probably in the throes of passion-_

The Minister shook his head at the very notion, shamefully cradling his face in the palm of his hand as he inwardly chided himself for such an inappropriate thought. _The she-devil continues her spell,_ he cursed, his gray hair falling lankily over his forehead. _Placing these impure thoughts in your mind! She might be concocting witches' brew this very moment_ — _just as Medea had used for her enchantments!_

Frollo looked pitifully up at the star-sprinkled sky. _Samson and Delilah, David and Bathsheba, Virgil and Lucretia,_ he listed. _Oh, how so many men had been ensnared by the charms of a woman._

Exhaustion set in but the judge could not retire now, not when his mind was so rattled because of her.

 _Speaking of the witch herself.._. Suddenly he wondered what she might be up to at the moment. _As if witches sleep,_ he thought damningly.

X

Esmeralda stared blankly up at the linen tester hanging from the columns of her grand four-poster bed. The rest of the day had dragged on in both boredom and confusion: one, there was nothing of interest to do since being locked in her chambers; and two, Frollo's abrupt kiss still torturously plagued her mind .

She had only been in the Palace of Justice for a day and already she could feel the stir-crazy sense of confinement sinking in. The Minister might have stated it as a threat, but it was still an excruciating and resonant fact that rang in her mind: _Gypsies don't do well inside stone walls…_

Staring out the window earlier had only made Esmeralda more miserable than before. The hours ticking by made her desperately miss the outside—the cobblestones and dirt streets, the shouts and laughter of citizens passing each other, the crisp air blowing through her black tresses.

Esmeralda turned over on her side as she remembered the Court of Miracles, and all her friends and family left there. Right now they were probably doing their best to forget the horrors that the Minister of Justice had put them through, comforting each other and reminding themselves that together they stood strong.

Esmeralda wondered how Clopin was handling his sister's newfound captivity. If he had gone into sheer panic over losing her in the market for five minutes when she was just a girl, Esmeralda could only imagine how the man was coping with her being under Frollo's lock and key.

She wrapped the blanket around herself tighter, even though she knew that sleep would not come as easy after everything that had transpired in such a whirlwind of a day. And if Frollo still had not tried to take her yet, Esmeralda began to fear that she might be forced to wither away in these chambers like some isolated— _and probably demented—_ caged bird.

 _If he's not going to do anything, he might as well just let me leave!_ She thought frustratedly, shutting her eyes. Behind her closed lids, she saw that dazed expression on his face—a face that was permanently plastered with a stone-like grimace, momentarily softened by lust.

The man was so aggravatingly mysterious, it unsettled Esmeralda to no end. Was she just supposed to bide her time and wait for him to attack?

 _Dammit._ She threw the covers away and got out of bed, sick of these muddled thoughts. Shuffling away from the large bed with her shoulders slumped, she crossed the room and she sat herself back at the small table.

Had the windows not been locked, Esmeralda would have devised a plan of escape of some sort. Now all she could do was stare wistfully out of them, envying the sleeping souls below who could still enjoy the outside world.

Reclining back in the wooden chair, Esmeralda could feel herself missing the Court even more. _Walking under dozens of colorful banners...the smell of incense and gypsy pottage brewing over small fire pits...passing by gypsy women gossiping while they tended to chores and their little ones played._ She smiled as she recalled walking with her arms stretched out like wings as a child, crossing the wooden planks laid over the waterways running through the underground haven.

Esmeralda abruptly heard the sound of a key turning in the lock, stiffening and already knowing who was entering. Lips turning down and wrinkling her nose, she looked on with dread at the smirking Minister of Justice breezing in.

Ignoring her cautious expression, Frollo tauntingly remarked, "I hope you are not feeling too out of place that you cannot sleep, my dear. I understand it will take some adjustment in transitioning to quarters of luxury, especially after years of sleeping in the city's gutters." Inside he was still at odds with himself over what to do with his prisoner, choosing to hide his inner-turmoil through mockery.

"Not so much the dwelling that bothers me, as the man that trapped me in here," she huskily bit back, seeing Frollo sneer at her response. Esmeralda rose from her seat and walked closer to the judge, arms folded over her chest. "Look here, Frollo. Neither one of us is thrilled about me staying here. You, um…stole a kiss, but you still wish I wasn't here. Why don't we just cut our losses and go our separate ways, that way we can both go back to our lives? You know where the Court of Miracles is now, and my friends and family were granted their freedom back. If you let me go, I promise I'll stay out of your way."

"We had an _agreement_ ," Frollo responded, the volume in his voice rising. "Need I remind you? You will stay here as I long as I say."

Pursing her red lips, the gypsy replied, "Have you forgotten that I said I would stay here, but I _never_ said I would give myself to you— and I _will_ fight you with everything I have." Her fierce eyes burned against him, her jaw set in determination as she waited for his response.

A lopsided smile broke over the judge's thin lips. "And have _you_ forgotten that I never promised that I would not launch another raid against your people's home? And I swear, I will torch that underground slum without a second thought!"

Esmeralda turned away from him and brushed a hand over her thick ebony hair. "I don't understand you at all, Minister," she tiredly remarked, her fingers absent-mindedly ran over one of the wooden beams of the bed.

Schooling his expression, Frollo folded his hands behind his back and monotonously replied, "I am not sure it is your place to try to."

"Well, that makes me feel much better about all of this," she sarcastically said, scrutinizing the judge. "Frollo, nothing about this situation makes any sense: you turned the city upside down, you have me here as you wanted, and now you're just going to keep me hostage in this room? I don't get it—everyone knows that you think my people are nothing but vermin, and yet you risked everything for the sake of _one_ to keep as a pet."

Frollo could feel himself frozen under her inquisitive green eyes, as though he stood before a grand jury under question of his deeds.

"I…" he quietly began. He could not explain to her the motives of his efforts, especially when he himself was not entirely sure. And he could not in the right mind let her know that either.

"Just help me understand this," she continued, steepling her fingers together. "You despise us, but you want one in bed. Doesn't that seem just a little, I don't know… _self-contradictory?_ A _gypsy_ of all people? A person can't help but wonder… _why?_ You must think we're more than just scum of the earth."

Clearing his throat, Frollo tried to regain his stone-like façade as he answered, "I have my reasons. Recall the fact that _I_ am not the one with charges under my name. I have enough of a challenge quelling your people from creating chaos in my city. To let a most "vocal" one run free after a stunt like yours would be _most_ unwise. Those low-lives that you call family might assume that they may turn a deaf ear to the law, but when it is broken there are _indeed_ consequences!"

"And what are _yours_ for nearly destroying Paris?" she challenged.

Her question struck him silent. If only she knew of the constant battle raging in his mind because of her— _the agonizing mental torture._ Vaguely, he answered, "I _am_ paying for my deeds, but I don't expect you to understand."

Esmeralda shook her head in exasperation at his typical response. "Is this how it's going to be?" she asked. "Speaking in riddles, not bothering to make this situation more comfortable for either of us?"

"And how do you suggest we make things more "comfortable", Esmeralda?" He indulged her, prepared to discredit anything she might say.

"Can we at least _try_ and reach an understanding?"

The judge's brows drew together, his eyes never leaving hers as if silently asking her to elaborate.

"You said earlier that trust is something that must be earned," the gypsy began. "Then what do I have to do to earn yours?"

Frollo couldn't help but scoff at her question, a ridiculing smirk stretching over his lips. "Please, I have learned my lesson when it comes to trusting your kind. So I wouldn't count on it anytime soon."

"You won't even let me try?"

He gave a mirthless laugh, eyes skimming over the large chamber and back at her. "In my experience, I have learned to expect nothing more than the kiss of Judas when it comes to putting my faith in gypsies," he rumbled disdainfully. "Apparently _treachery_ is a most prized skill in your culture. I have no intention of building any rapport between us."

Before he could make way for the door, Esmeralda caught him by the arm, the Minister whipping around and casting her a puzzled expression.

"Why can't you just give me a chance?" she asked. "I mean, did some gypsy mislead or make a fool of you that you won't even let me prove that I can be trusted?"

His heartbeat spurred under her gaze, defensively crossing his arms over his chest. He bit back, "That is none of your concern!"

He lowered his eyes away from hers to the floor, Esmeralda noticing a flash of uneasiness on his face.

"Really?" Esmeralda asked in unsurprised disbelief. "You cornered me into staying with you, you're keeping me locked up in this room, and when you look at me, you're like a dog who's found a fresh piece of meat...but all you do is degrade my family. And since you think it's pointless to make an attempt in trusting me, you can at least just tell me why you hold such contempt for us."

Frollo continued to face away from her, a grimace etched in his expression. "It's a… _complicated_ matter," he answered softly, swallowing hard.

"Then that means you don't despise us just for the fun of it," Esmeralda hypothesized, analyzing his countenance and rigid form. "So tell me, Minister…who played you false?"

Frollo's gray eyes looked skyward as he prayed to his higher power for assistance. An old anger was beginning to simmer inside, increasing under her questions and judging green orbs.

With an exasperated sigh, he uttered, "I _really_ do not wish to discuss this."

Esmeralda continued to examine his uncharacteristic body language. Instead of standing as stiff as an oak, he seemed fidgety as he kept his arms folded, nervously looking away from the young woman.

Nevertheless, she still pried, "Come on, Frollo. Who wronged you so badly that you wouldn't dare trust a single gypsy?"

"I am warning you, I would rather _not_ ," he growled, his patience wearing thinner and thinner.

"Well if we want this little arrangement to work, we have to find some way to understand each other," she diplomatically countered. "How can you expect a gypsy to be honest when you can't even bring yourself to do the same?"

"Don't you _dare_ rebuke me for what you do not understand!" he explosively reacted, pointing a finger at her. "The trespasses made against me at the hands of your kin is strictly personal—therefore, you will _not_ ask me again! Do I make myself clear?"

She hid the alarm from such a reaction by forcefully keeping her expression straight. Esmeralda looked on it at him in silence, testing him. The Minister reminded her of a mad dog with his bared teeth and murderous look in his granite eyes. Still, she would remain as undeterred as ever, crossing her arms over her chest this time and eyeing the trembling judge.

"Fine," she reluctantly agreed, seeing as it was useless in arguing in circles with this man.

Frollo stepped back from her, a look of indignance on his expression before running a hand over his face in agitation.

"Then you can at least tell me one thing?" Esmeralda gently asked, studying his anxiety.

"What?" he said shakily, straightening up.

"How in the hell did you convince the King to let you do this?"

Frollo almost wanted to laugh when he thought of the letter he wrote earlier, probably on Louis's desk by now.

"I informed His Majesty that you, my dear, are _leverage_ —by keeping such a much-loved member of their community, the gypsies _will_ obey the law for your safety. And that should they cross the line, the consequences will befall them _and_ you."

Esmeralda tilted her chin up as she looked hostilely at him. Frollo looked down his crooked nose at her, casting an unpleasant smile towards her. "You really are a sick man," she resentfully commented.

"Calm yourself, gypsy, I have no intention of doing such a thing. After the mess that's ensued, it would seem meaningless if I did away with you now." He imagined how empty such an act of "justice" would leave him after all that trouble. This constant battle of enmity and infatuation had already caused him enough grief.

"I might not be as versed in the law as you, Minister, but just out of curiosity…is there anyone who inspects these policies to make sure they're valid?" Esmeralda asked, a subtle edge in her voice. "Just to ensure that there's no _corruption_ in the King's government?"

"I know you may think my orders are arbitrary—as many do—but they have always been written for the greater good," Frollo answered defensively.

"And you would swear on your life that that's the case?"

Frollo neared closer to the defiant girl, his face inches from hers. In a most dangerous voice, he replied, "I will argue to the _grave_ that it was the right thing to do."

For a moment, Esmeralda only stared back at him, her expression never changing and irritating him further in doing so. Ambling towards the window once more, Esmeralda remarked, "Keep telling yourself that, judge."

A vein throbbed in his temple at her continued impertinence, his anger reaching its boiling point. Her attention aimed back out at the dark city, Esmeralda did not see the Minister's face contort in furious indignity. His chest heaved as his breathing labored, fists shaking and itching to strike the rebellious young woman. Frollo moved closer to her, Esmeralda now facing back at him.

"Never in my life," he slowly began, his temper ready to burst. "Have I encountered a gypsy with so much _impudence!_ " Without warning, he turned around and launched the nearby wooden chair across the room, its crash against the stone wall echoing harshly. Esmeralda flinched some before he turned back at her with the most deranged expression on his face, his gray hair mussed and his nostrils flaring. For a fleeting moment, he resembled one of those hideous, scowling demons carved into the outside of Notre Dame.

"Why?!" he thundered, stooped over and shaking in rage as he looked up at her.

Esmeralda's heart raced in her chest in fear that he might pounce on her like a wolf. On one hand, she did not want to provoke him further, very aware of the violent anger he possessed. But on the other, she refused to be seen as weak. If she was going to stay here, she would make sure that she was not a toy to be played with.

"I am not afraid of you," she asserted, hiding her uneasiness. She steeled herself, prepared to defend herself against him.

Lunging forward, Frollo grabbed Esmeralda by the arm and pulled her towards him. "I can change that _very_ easily, I assure you!" he snarled.

Without thinking, Esmeralda reached and harshly pried his hand off of her and shoved him away, backing further against the large window behind her. "And I told you that I will fight you with every fiber of my being!" she threateningly warned, the Minister struck speechless by her retaliation.

Frollo could only stare back at his audacious little witch, mouth hung open in bewilderment. Her daring green eyes seemed to gleam in the moonlight pouring in above her, captivating and challenging him.

It was in that moment, she looked every bit as forbiddenly beautiful as she did that day at the Festival, fearlessly standing up and cursing him. Her tilted chin, squared shoulders, and spiteful frown… _as powerful and magnificent as Athena herself,_ he longingly mused, still dazed.

"You're right," he whispered, blinking out of his trance and shifting his eyes away. Esmeralda looked baffled at his sudden transition in tone, expecting another savage outburst. Careful of his changing moods, her gaze never left him. "You're right," he repeated more audibly.

Turning on his heels, Frollo wearily trudged towards the chambers door. With one hand on the handle, he paused for a moment, wordlessly staring at the wooden barrier. Esmeralda anticipated some biting comment against her, but heard none as the Minister exited and locked the door behind him.

The gypsy stepped carefully across the room, all the while listening attentively in case Frollo might suddenly return. Kneeling, she examined the wooden chair strewn over and found one of its arms broken off. Picking the part up and inspecting it, Esmeralda sardonically thought, _Day one_.

 ***A/n: Thanks for then kind words from everyone. Writer's block almost had me over a barrel, but I endure! Thoughts, feelings? Read and review please!**


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